Three years ago I was a CSI. I had friends, family...a life.
Then I went out to meet friends and took a stupid shortcut to my car.
I paid the price with my life.
So in 2005, I became just another statistic: raped and murdered, twelve stab wounds to the torso and a slit throat. Not pretty...and definitely not fun.
But that's the problem with living in post-Uprising America...sometimes, the dead don't stay that way for long.
Two and a half weeks ago, I was raised by a reanimator from my grave...but I'm no normal zombie. I'm a Lazarus...a zombie ideal. I'm a perfect mimic of a living girl...my heart even beats. My skin is warm. Still, death is death...and you can only die once.
I also happen to be a Paranormal...I suffer from a genetic disorder called Cotton's Syndrome...metaneuroplasia. I have multiple, isolated abilities with no direct genetic link...it means I have to be able to work two sets of powers separately.
And considering that I'm both electrokinetic and empathic? Sometimes that can be a volatile combination.
[not jennifer garner. not theresa riordan. she's an original character I own exclusively. steal her or her work, and we'll both zap your ass. ;p]